


Just A Small Thing (That Means A Lot)

by 221BroadwayIron



Series: My Brother, My Friend [4]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Lights, Christmas fic, Domestic Fluff, Foster Care, Gen, Harley Keener & Peter Parker are Siblings, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Fic, Kid Harley Keener, Kid Peter Parker, MIT Era, May & Ben Parker Are Good Bros, May's Kitchen Misadventures, New Year's Ball Drop, New Year's Eve, Playing in the Snow, Realistic Depictions of Foster Care, Snow, Student Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, celebration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:42:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28061115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221BroadwayIron/pseuds/221BroadwayIron
Summary: Tony rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly when the door swung open. “Hey, May.”“Aw, hi. You’re just in time for dinner.”“I’m really sorry about this,” the college student apologized, stepping through the doorway in a swirl of snowflakes. “I promise I won’t get in the way or anything. I wouldn’t have asked except that my roommate’s in Georgia and all the hotels are packed and— I just need the place to sleep for a few days, that’s all, I can feed myself and stay out of your hair and you’ll hardly even know I’m here, I swear—”“Tony, honey, it’s okay. We don’t mind at all. You know we love having you around.”----------Or, Tony ends up at the Parker’s for Christmas break.
Relationships: Harley Keener & Peter Parker & Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, May Parker & Ben Parker & Tony Stark
Series: My Brother, My Friend [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1873138
Comments: 58
Kudos: 232





	1. Christmas Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait until Christmas Day (and until I had the other two chapters written) to post this, but I felt like posting it now, so... 
> 
> Happy 11 days before Christmas!

“You can still come, you know. We’ve got room in the car. My aunt and uncle would be happy to have you.”

“Rhodey…”

“Mama always loves having more people to cook for.”

“Rhodey.” Tony glared at his roommate. “I’m not coming. I already told my mom I’d be home this year. _Drop it_.”

“Alright, alright,” Rhodey backed off, raising his hands in surrender. If Tony decided to go home, he couldn’t stop him, no matter how bad of an idea Rhodey thought it was. (There was a _reason_ Tony usually avoided going home as much as possible, after all.) Rhodey slung his backpack over one shoulder. “I’ve got to go finish some stuff in the lab. See you later.”

“Bye.”

The door closed behind his roommate with a little more force than necessary and Tony dropped his head into his hands with a huff. He wanted to see his mom, sure, and Jarvis and Ms. Ana, but he didn’t actually want to go home. Not at all. He just didn’t want to intrude on the Rhodes any more than he already did.

They always seemed happy to see him, but he’d stayed with Rhodey’s family not three weeks ago for Thanksgiving break, not to mention several weeks during the summer, and all of the holidays last year. Even if they liked him (which they did seem to) that was a lot, and as much as he loved staying at their place, it was always tainted with a feeling of I’m-sorry-you-have-to-put-up-with-me-so-much and please-don’t-be-doing-this-just-out-of-pity.

Besides, staying at Rhodey's house was one thing, making his aunt and uncle host some white boy they didn’t even know was on a completely different level. They didn’t need him imposing on them when, really, there was no good reason for him not to go home. So as much as he wanted to, Tony _couldn’t_ accept and he dearly wished Rhodey would realize that and leave him the heck alone.

* * *

Finals passed both at the speed of light and slower than a snail as they always did. Every day felt like a week, but the week itself felt like a day. Between late nights in the labs (He ended up having to sneak back in several nights after the building was locked to get his projects done in time.), taking all his several hour long exams, writing a major lab report, and barricading himself on the quiet floor of the library to finish a research paper, Tony barely had time to sleep. He certainly didn’t have time to argue over any more bad Christmas decisions with Rhodey. 

Actually, he barely saw the guy. Rhodey was just as busy as he was and aside from the too few hours they spent passed out, for the whole week they were never together (and conscious) for longer than about 10 minutes until finals were over and Tony was helping Rhodey carry bags out to his car.

“Bye,” Tony said, breath coming out in a cloud of vapor. He waved tentatively, unsure how much his roommate was still frustrated with him.

Rhodey’s face softened. “See ya, Tones.” He slammed the trunk closed and yanked the younger one in for a hug. “You need anything, you call, yeah?”

“Rhodey, you’re gonna be in Georgia.”

“So? That’s the point of the phone. Genius like you, figured you knew that already.” He raised an eyebrow. “Besides I’m expecting a sappy Christmas call, so don’t let me down.”

Tony shot him a winning smile, sliding into their usual banter with a feeling of relief. “You bet, honeybear.” 

* * *

_This was a horrible idea_ , Tony thought, clenching his jaw and trying to tune out the voice of his father. He focused as hard as he could on slicing his steak into perfectly even pieces. It was only Christmas Eve. 

_How long until classes start again?_ Two weeks, maybe?

His knife jolted and mangled the slice he’d been cutting.

_Get me out of here._

* * *

May’s phone rang, interrupting the Christmas music she had playing in the kitchen. She answered it with one hand while stirring a pot of sweet potatoes with the other.

“Hello?” With a toe, she coaxed a Hot Wheels car out from under the cabinet. 

“Hi, May. Uh, Merry Christmas!”

“Tony! Merry Christmas!” The Hot Wheels went skittering away into the living room and got stuck under the couch. “What’s up? Did you want to talk to the boys? They’re not here right now, they’re at the Leeds’, but they should be home soon.”

“No, I need to talk to you, actually. Um… it’s, uh…” 

May interrupted his halting sentence. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

“Oh. No, I’m fine, May, I’m fine,” he reassured her quickly. “Nothing happened. Well, maybe something happened, just a small something though, a-and… well, I just was wondering if, maybe… I could—” Tony cleared his throat self consciously. “Would you mind if I, uh… crashed on your couch for a few days? I’m sorry, I know it’s Christmas and, and—”

“No, _no_ , Tony, you’re _always_ welcome at our house. No matter what.” 

Ben’s strong grasp encircled her from behind. “Everything okay?” he said quietly, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Yeah,” May whispered back. “Tony’s just going to come here for a couple days.” Ben’s arms tightened protectively around her. She knew exactly how he felt.

“Thanks, May,” sighed the teenager’s tired voice.

“What time do you think you’ll be here? Or, wait, do you need us to come get you? We can come get you.” May was already reaching to move the potatoes off the burner.

“Well, I, um, actually…” She could hear Tony swallowing through the phone. “Like, two minutes?” he squeaked.

“Tony!” 

May flew to the window and, sure enough, there was Tony’s expensive silver car parked as inconspicuously as possible by the side of their street, a layer of snow already coating the roof. As she watched, the headlights flicked off and then there was a hunched figure crunching through the not-yet-shovelled drifts on their driveway. A knock sounded.

Tony rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly when the door swung open. “Hey, May.”

“Aw, hi. You’re just in time for dinner.”

“I’m really sorry about this,” the college student apologized, stepping through the doorway in a swirl of snowflakes. “I promise I won’t get in the way or anything. I wouldn’t have even asked except that my roommate’s in Georgia and all the hotels are packed and— I just need the place to sleep for a few days, that’s all, I can feed myself and stay out of your hair and you’ll hardly even know I’m here, I _swear_ —”

“Tony, honey, it’s okay. We don’t mind at all. You know we love having you around.”

“The twins are going to be so excited when they come back from Ned’s and find you here,” Ben added, coming to stand by his wife. “It’s good to see you. Everything alright?”

He felt his face heat up as the man’s eyes raked over him, even though it wasn’t like there wasn’t anything to see. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, it’s fine. I’m fine. I told Mom I’d come home for the holidays this year, but it… just, well—” Blinking quickly, Tony waved an attempted casual hand in the air. “I— couldn’t, needed to— 

“We’re usually a Christmas Eve festivities kind of family anyways, y’know? So it’s not like I’m missing anything, really, except for this ‘New Year’s Gala’ thing that’s truly a nightmare and I haven’t been since I was in boarding school at least and— Sorry, rambling again, anyway, thanks for letting me stay here. And I’m really sorry for intruding on your Christmas.”

“You’re always welcome here, Tony, no matter what.”

“I— I, uh…” He shrugged awkwardly. “Thanks.”

May and Ben both smiled fondly at the teenager, and May drew him into a tight hug. To Tony’s immense relief, she doesn’t seem to notice just how choked off his voice sounded. As soon as she let go, he was being pulled against Ben’s side and then he had to swallow, hard, and stare up at the ceiling to clear the tightness threatening to overcome his throat.

It was a stupid thing to be getting worked up about. Tony had already known what going home would entail long before he’d left Cambridge and yet he’d still been unprepared for it. Somehow, after being at school for so long and with the twins, it made Howard and the echoing Stark mansion seem a hundred times worse.

Tony was relieved when May had to rush back to her potatoes and broke up their moment. Ben gave him a pat on the shoulder and released him.

“You can set your stuff by the couch for now, we can get you set up after dinner. Mrs. Leeds should be bringing the boys any—” Headlights flashed through the window. “And I think that’ll be them. Prepare to get tackled.”

The door burst open and Ben barely had time to say, “Guess who’s here!” before two little boys were running full tilt into his arms.

“TONY!!!”

And for the first time since break started, the first time since _finals_ started, Tony felt the tension draining out of his muscles.

* * *

Dinner was delicious and Tony was duly impressed. (This was May they were talking about, after all.) There were mashed sweet potatoes, of course, and ham, which Ben set about carving. From the other platters came salad, scalloped potatoes, green beans, Jello salad, cranberry sauce, and rolls. After their plates were cleared, May pulled out a pumpkin pie, which she assured them was the supermarket’s finest. 

It all went off without a hitch, too, no harsh voices or pointed comments at the table, and Tony was only beginning to enjoy the peace (if you could call it that—Peter was driving his roll along the edge of the table like a train and Harley giving excited instructions to May as she cut him a slice of pie), when the moment splintered. The fancy little dessert plate Ben had been holding slipped out of his hand and the cut glass shattered against the metal of their sink.

May gasped, a surprised hand flying to her heart. Both of the twins’ heads turned at the sudden noise and Harley skittered over to Peter’s side. The silence was thick, but only for a second, before it was broken by May chuckling at her own reaction.

“Whoops,” Ben deadpanned, a glimmer in his eye. He squatted, inspecting the floor with a practiced eye. “We’re clear.” He straightened back up. “I think it all went in the sink.”

“Perfect, easy clean up,” May cheered. At a slow pace, she moved around the table towards Harley and Peter. They huddled together, looking slightly nervous, but both crawled into May’s lap as soon as she sat cross legged on the floor next to them. And that was progress. It used to be that something like a broken dish would make them hide under the bed until May or Ben could coax them out.

It was as she cuddled them and pressed kisses to each of their foreheads that she noticed Tony. “Ben?” she called in a low voice, with a significant nod in his direction. “ _Tony._ ”

The college student must have shoved his chair back at the sudden noise because it jutted out from the table at an odd angle. His face was drained of color and his eyes fixed unblinkingly on the edge of his placemat in such a way that Ben couldn’t tell if he was staring at the fabric or _through_ it. Both hands gripped each other in his lap, knuckles almost whiter than his face. 

Cautiously Ben knelt on the floor by his side. “Tony, bud? How are we doing?” There was a twitch of his head which really could’ve meant anything. “You’re alright, we’re all alright. A plate just slipped out of my hand, no big deal. May and I’ll have it cleaned up in a flash so that no one gets hurt. It’s not a problem, we’re alright, bud… Can I have your hand?”

After receiving no response, Ben reached slowly for the clenched fingers. _That_ got Tony’s attention and he jerked once more, hands flying to grip the edge of the chair. His eyes snapped to Ben’s face. 

“Let _go_ of me!”

The kitchen electrified and then dissipated in a breath, leaving behind only May’s quiet words to the twins. With obvious effort, the college student straightened his shoulders and released the chair, folding both arms a little too tightly around his stomach in an attempt at casualness. Pink tinged his white face.

“Hey, there you are. We doin’ alright?” Ben asked again.

“Oh, I’m f-fine,” he deflected quickly to avoid the sudden rapidness of his heartbeat. “Great, actually, y’know, just… startled. I mean, that was loud, wasn’t it? It was. So, pie. Is the pie salvageable or—” 

“Tony.”

His face coloring even more, he shook his head vehemently at Ben. (How did _he_ , Tony Stark, fall apart at a broken dish and the actual, literal foster children were back to normal after a hug?) Fortunately, the man got the hint—Tony did _not_ want to talk about it—and rose. Unfortunately, when Ben went to pull himself up on the back of the chair, Tony only caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and flinched violently again.

“I am _fine,_ ” he forced out stiffly.

Ben pretended not to notice, heading back over to the counter and pulling out a new plate. “I never liked these, you know.” He spoke in a conversational tone, seemingly focused on making sure the slices were even. They’re so—”

“They’re really scratched,” May piped up. Then she whispered something and a second later Harley went careening around the corner of the table and started yanking on the refrigerator handle. She helped him to open it and pull the whipped cream. 

“And fragile,” her husband said. “I’m sure we’ve already broken at least 3 or 4. Which is about half the set, you know.”

Peter, pouty now that May had stopped cuddling them, came over to Tony. “Up.” 

Ben rolled his eyes fondly when Tony complied. “Cuddle bug. Harley, hold out your hand for me.” He squirted a small mountain of whipped cream into the kid’s small palm. “They’re from my… great-aunt?” Another dollop appeared in Peter’s eagerly stretched out hand. “Tony, want some? You know you do.” He waved the canister enticingly until Tony reluctantly agreed, watching in barely disguised fascination. Even Jarvis would never have allowed him to do that at home. 

“She loved thrift store shopping,” Ben continued, “could find just about anything, but she didn’t always have very good taste. Sometimes she found neat stuff like that cabinet,—” He gestured towards the low chest of drawers their TV perched atop “—that was from Auntie Jenny. There was also a lot of junk. I think she wanted to get us nice dishes but, well…”

“They’re a little ugly.”

“Yup, and beat up. May’s been looking for new ones.”

“Have not.” He shot a look her way. “Well, maybe a little. They’re _ugly._ And now with the boys, even fancy plates need to not break when you _hit them too hard with a spoon!_ ”

Ben winced. “Er, yeah, I remember trying to clean _that_ up.”

Peter loudly slurped his whipped cream, licking his hand clean and then wiping sticky fingers off on his shirt for good measure. Behind him, Harley was doing exactly the same thing. And Tony supposed he’d better get to eating his because both twins were starting to eye it up. He gave it an experimental poke with his tongue.

Huh. He was pretty sure it tasted better off his hand than it did on his pie.

* * *

Once the dishes were cleaned up, Ben took the boys off for a bath while May and Tony tried to set up a bed for him.

“We used to have a guest room, but now it’s Harley and Peter’s room,” she explained apologetically, trying to pull sheets over the couch. “And we _will_ have one after the addition is finished, but, well—”

“It’s okay, it’s fine, doesn’t bother me. Whenever I go to Rhodey’s it’s just a sleeping bag on the floor, so anything else is great. Seriously, May.”

May abandoned the sheets for a second. “Actually, you know what? We do have an extra mattress in the boys’ room since they insist on sleeping together. We can pull that down, that’ll be better than this.”

Tony tried to protest, but the woman was already herding him upstairs to help wrangle the twin mattress down the stairs. They shoved it under the living room window, wedged between a glider rocking chair and the far edge of the coffee table. Tony hovered awkwardly over May’s shoulder as she made up the bed until she stuffed a pillow into his arms.

“Here, will you put that on?” A pillow case covered in cartoonish giraffes hit him in the shoulder. 

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

Doing something with his hands distracted Tony from the way his throat constricted watching May’s hands fold back the top of the covers and gently smooth out the wrinkles. (Again. What was _wrong_ with him today? She was making the frickin’ _bed._ He usually had better control over himself than this. Tony was going to blame it on the holiday.) The finished pillow got chucked on top of the mattress.

May got a few extra blankets for him (“In case it gets cold down here!”). Tony began rooting around in his suitcase, extracting a pair of pajamas and taking his bathroom bag into the little half-bath by the base of the stairs. When he came out, now wearing red flannel pajama pants and a soft ROTC shirt that was technically Rhodey’s, May was fluttering around closing curtains and making sure doors were locked. The TV screen was paused on the opening to _Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer._

(Stop-motion. How did people have the time to make a whole movie like that?)

“Do you want to go give Ben a hand with bathtime?” she asked him. “And do you want hot chocolate?”

“Uh, I’m okay.”

“Oh, come on. I’m making you hot chocolate; it’s tradition.” There was a clatter as May started pulling out cups. “Marshmallows? Of course you want marshmallows.” She shooed him out of the kitchen. “Go, help Ben so we can get to the movie faster.”

Obediently, Tony left, footsteps echoing as he trotted up the stairs and hovered hesitantly outside the open bathroom door. _Do I just go in? The boys are naked. And they’re only kids, but isn’t that weird?_

The sound of babbling voices and splashing water came from within, and then Ben’s voice raised above the noise: “Get in here, Tony.”

There was a towel spread next to the bathtub which Ben was kneeling on. One arm was up to his elbow in bathwater and the front of his shirt was soaked. (Harley was suspiciously squirting the tiled wall with a rubber whale.) 

“Peter needs shampoo, if you don’t mind. It’s that orange bottle by your elbow. _Where_ did the soap go, Harls? Wait— Nope, that’s your foot—” There was a splash and Harley squealed. “Ah, never mind, found it.”

Tony squeezed a bit of orange shampoo with some generic fruity scent out into his palm. “Uh, Petey-pie?” Obediently, Peter scooted closer to the edge of the tub and tilted his head back to give Tony better access to his hair.

He’d never washed someone else’s hair before and it took a few seconds to adjust to doing what he was used to doing on his own head on someone else’s. Peter was a champ, though, and didn’t squirm or wriggle (much), even when Tony nearly got suds in his eyes.

After they got rinsed, both boys clambered out of the tub to wrap themselves in towels and then made a mad dash for the door when Ben pulled out matching pairs of red-and-green striped pajamas. They were apprehended, giggling madly, from the inside of their closet and hefted over shoulders to be returned to the bathroom. 

“Ha, I got you, you little stinker,” Ben proclaimed, sitting with his back against the closed door and trapping Harley between his knees. “There is no escape now!”

“Yeah, prepare to be vanquished,” Tony added as he tugged Peter’s top over his wet curls, embarrassment forgotten, and tried to figure out which side was the front. Where the heck was the tag? “And dressed.”

“Boys! Hot chocolate’s ready!” called May’s voice from downstairs.

“Uh oh, time to go!”

“Huh cho-cate!” chorused both twins as they bolted into the kitchen.

May grinned at them. “Pete, darling, your shirt’s on backwards.” Tony made an annoyed face at her when he appeared around the corner. She just laughed and fixed it. “Alright, sit down, ‘kay? I’m gonna bring it out to you.”

They immediately scrambled up onto the couch where Ben was clearing a hot chocolate spot on one of the end tables. 

“Okay. Here you go, and here _you_ go…” May passed a sippy cup each to Harley and Peter. “Ben, that’s yours… Tony Stark, you are _not_ sitting over there. Get your butt on the couch right now or no hot chocolate.”

He meekly got out of the arm chair. “Yes, ma’am.”

May flipped off the lamps, leaving only the lights of the Christmas tree and the glow of the TV screen illuminating the room, before joining them. Pressed hip to hip, they just barely fit on the couch, cozy under blankets and sipping their drinks. As the movie began, Harley wiggled more securely into the gap between May and Tony and leaned his head against the college student’s arm.

To be honest, Tony didn’t pay much attention to the movie. He was distracted by Harley and by the easy way May’s stocking feet pressed against the side of his knee and by the haphazardly decorated tree. (The bottom third or so was particularly heavy on the ornaments.) The dim glow illuminated the collage of pictures hung on either side of the TV and Tony found himself studying them with surprising intensity.

_They look so happy._

May’s fingers brushed his shoulder. When he looked over, she was just picking a hair off his shoulder, but shot him a sheepish grin when their eyes met. And, for some reason, it struck him right then that he was happy too.

* * *

When the movie finished, Tony helped Ben and May tuck the half-asleep boys into their bottom bunk. Which mostly meant he hovered by the bed while the two foster parents did their thing, and then gave the boys a hug and a kiss each when Ben waved him forward. He retreated to the landing while there was one last “night-night,” and after May inched their door closed, she turned to wrap Tony in a hug.

“Good night,” she said softly. “You can wake us up if you need anything.”

“Anything,” echoed Ben, patting him on the shoulder. “And just so you know, the boys are pretty early risers. We’ll try to keep it quiet so you can sleep in, but no promises.”

“That’s okay, you really don’t have to worry about it. I’ll be fine.”

May brushed a strand of hair back behind his ear. “Don’t stay up too late, okay? You should get some rest.”

“I will, May. Good night, guys.”

“Good night! Sleep well!”

“See you in the morning!”

He made it halfway down the stairs when Ben called after him, “Could you turn the Christmas lights off, please?”

“Yeah!”

“Thank you!”

Tony unplugged them and cautiously made his way back across a room now illuminated only by what little light filtered through the curtains from the street lamps outside. Despite the fact that his toes hung off the edge of the mattress (Who knew those extra five inches on the extra long mattresses at school were actually noticeable?), the bed was fairly comfy, more so that Rhodey’s floor, and May’s excess of blankets actually made it feel cozy. Like a nest.

It took Tony a little while to fall asleep, but once he did, he slept soundly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! The next chapters will be up as I get them written.
> 
> And in case you're looking for some more Christmas music to listen to, here are a few of my favorites...
> 
> ["Snow"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jLKmcSuMeCI), by Sleeping At Last  
> ["Did You Know?"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oUwc6iYkGF8), by Todd Agnew  
> ["Winter In The Air"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sz70efcbPPw), by David Archuleta  
> ["Mary, Did You Know?"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ifCWN5pJGIE), by Pentatonix  
> And "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen," by [Hozier](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u2cGdgK8Hgk) and [David Archuleta](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PCAqxj20kkU)


	2. Snow and Cookies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fluffy, day after Christmas chapter...

_Beep._

The noise was just close enough to the sound of his alarm clock that it sent a bolt of adrenaline shooting through Tony, despite it being almost two weeks into Christmas break. He jolted awake, eyes snapping open. It wasn’t his alarm ( _Not my alarm, not my alarm_ ), but as the tingles in his fingers faded, his sluggishly catching up brain registered the acrid smell of something burning that definitely shouldn’t be.

_What…_

“Just let it soak,” came May’s voice and then Ben passed by the arched opening that led into the kitchen.

He dumped several blackened shapes into the trash bin, crossed the doorway again, and the sound of running water echoed from the room. Tony blinked a few times and May came into focus, up on a chair and vigorously fanning the smoke alarm with a stained pot holder. At the table, Peter and Harley munched on cubes of melon and kept smothering giggles while shooting looks in his direction.

The smoke alarm sent out another warning beep.

“Shh!” she hissed, giving it a swat. “Tony’s sleeping.”

“Tony’s not sleeping anymore.” He yawned, finally sitting up and running a hand through his hair so that it stood up every which way. 

“Oh no, sorry, sorry. We were trying to be quiet.” With one last swat, May descended from the chair. “You can go back to sleep if you want.” 

“No, no, it’s okay.” Tony stretched and shoved the mound of warm blankets off his legs, then made his way over to sit at the kitchen table with the twins. “I should probably be up anyways. What’s for breakfast?” He snagged a piece of cantaloupe.

“Eggs,” Ben said drily, extracting a clean pan from the drawer under the oven. 

“That _my_ me’n!” cried Harley indignantly and pulled the bowl closer to himself.

Peter yanked it back and held out another cube for Tony to eat.

“Aw, thanks, Peter, Peter, Pumpkin-Eater.” He popped it in his mouth and ruffled the boy’s messy curls. “You’re too kind.”

“Can-a-nope,” he said wisely and Ben snorted into the eggs he was cracking.

“Can I give you a hand?”

“Nope, I think we’ve got it,” May replied as she grabbed a loaf of bread off the top of the refrigerator. She had to stand on her tiptoes to reach. 

“Yes, actually, how about you get some toast going?” Ben snatched the bread out of his wife’s hand and tossed it to Tony instead. “The smoke alarm doesn’t need anymore exercise today, honey.” May glared and snapped a towel at his butt.

Tony wrestled off the twist tie and Peter (with a very serious expression on his face) helped him stick the bread into the toaster. May set the table, Ben and Harley sprinkled liberal amounts of cheese over the scrambled eggs, and soon enough the five of them were chowing down on their breakfast.

“Are you going to clear out the driveway this morning?” May asked Ben as she spread jam on to a slice of bread and cut it in half for the twins.

“Yup, I was planning on heading out after breakfast.”

Harley perked up at that. “Outside? May, go— go outside?”

“Hmm…” She made a show of thinking about it.

“P’ease, p’ease, _p’ease,_ ” the twins begged together. 

“Oh, alright.”

“Yay!”

“My Tony cuh-come too?” 

And how could he say no to that begging little face? “Yes, of course, I’ll come play outside with you.”

“Yay!”

* * *

May pulled out a pile of winter clothes each for Harley and Peter, and then shook her head at Tony when he tried to throw just a coat on over his jeans. 

“You can’t go out in that, you’ll get soaked and freeze. Wait here.” She came back down the hall a second later lugging a cardboard box with ‘Winter Gear’ scrawled across one side in Ben's messy writing. “Alrighty, let’s see what we have in here…”

The box got upended in the entryway so that May could sift through it all. Ben’s snow pants, as was probably to be expected, were far too large on Tony, but May’s fit reasonably well and were (fortunately) black instead of purple like her hat and mittens were. Tony had a stocking hat, but they found some warm gloves (even if they didn’t quite match). The twins each needed a hand getting bundled up, but it wasn’t long before the three of them were waddling out the door like more colorful versions of the Pillsbury Doughboy.

They rolled off the porch and into the snow drifts, stumbling and laughing in the cold air. Peter started trying to make snow angels in the fluff. He didn’t quite have the hang of moving his arms and legs together and kept ruining them when he stood up, but didn’t seem to mind. The garage door groaned open and Ben appeared, snow shovel in hand.

“I he’p! I he’p!” cried Harley, losing his balance as he ran and went careening into his foster father’s legs.

“Me too?”

“Well, now, how did I see that coming?” Ben chuckled and reached back into the garage to snag two Harley-and-Peter-sized shovels. They barely reached his knees and looked like they could clear about a half pint of snow per scoop. “Tony, you wanna help us, too? The boys’ll be sick of it in 10 minutes anyways,” he added in an undertone.

“Uh, sure.”

Deftly, Tony caught the snow shovel Ben tossed his way and eyed the driveway. Ben had started methodically clearing the far side, while Harley and Peter had each picked a random spot in the middle. Most of the snow they “cleared” got dumped on the driveway behind them.

He could honestly say this was the first time he’d shoveled snow in his life. MIT had a maintenance crew (which Tony was not on) and Howard had always hired people to plow, shovel, and salt anything they might possibly need to walk on.

Once he fell into a rhythm, though, shoveling was surprisingly nice. The movement sent warmth flooding into his chilly fingers and toes and watching the area of cleared pavement grow was satisfying.

“Hey, Tony!”

“What?”

Ben turned to face him, leaning on the handle of his shovel. “After we get this cleared, how about you pull your car in? Then it’ll be out of the way of the plows and what not.”

“Sure, I—” He was cut off by a blob of wet snow that smacked into the back of his head and then slithered straight down his collar. “HEY!”

He whirled around to find Harley perched on the snow pile behind him, shovel still in hand and facial expression drifting some place between amusement and _uh oh._

“Oh, you’re gonna get it now, you little rascal!” 

Harley squeaked and took off with Tony right on his tail. He threw another handful of snow over his shoulder and Tony took that opportunity to tackle him, play wrestling the squirming little boy on to the ground. Harley weaseled away in order to jump on his back and send Tony face first into a drift.

He came up sputtering and slung the kid over a shoulder to prevent any further damage. Or at least until he tripped over the handle of Harley’s kiddie-shovel and sent both of them to the ground again in a flurry of snowflakes and started the war all over again.

Ben and Peter had the driveway entirely cleared by the time Tony and Harley conceded defeat and came back, liberally coated in white.

“Lookit, lookit, lookit!” Peter’s gloved hands snatched him by the arm and dragged Tony into the middle of the driveway. “Did that wif’ my, wi’ my Ben!”

“You bet we did, buddy,” replied Ben and gave the boy’s hat an affectionate rub.

* * *

When they trooped inside later, cheeks rosy and eyes sparkling, May was there to collect dripping gloves and hang up coats. The twins lined their boots up on a rubber mat next to Ben and Tony’s, only taking a few seconds to splash their hands in the melting snow. 

“Oh, Tony,” May said, drawing her head back out of the closet. “Your phone was ringing earlier.”

“Thanks, I’ll check it.”

_Who would be calling me right now?_ He wondered with some trepidation, flicking open the Missed Calls tab. _Ah, Rhodey._ With a twinge of guilt, Tony realized that he’d forgotten to call him yesterday in the midst of… everything. _Whoops. He’s gonna have my butt._

“So you’re not dead, then?” was the first thing Rhodey said when he picked up. Yup, not happy.

“Heeey, honeybear…” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw May roll her eyes in his direction and resume hanging up snow pants.

“Don’t ‘Hey’ me, Tony. You had me worried.”

“Aw, you do care!”

“Uh, yeah, maybe ‘cause my dope of a roommate decides to go _home_ for break and then didn’t contact me for a _week,_ even though he promised to call on Christmas and usually texts me nonsense 20 times a day whenever he’s bored!” There was a pause, wherein May dropped a hanger and Peter almost knocked him over while trying to take off a wet sock. “That's— You aren’t at your place, are you?”

“Uh, no,” said Tony, sitting cross-legged in the arm chair to get out of the main flow of traffic. “I might have kind of left yesterday afternoon—”

“Tony!”

“—and driven back to Cambridge because, you know, stuff. So I’m going to stay with Harley and Peter’s family for the… well, the rest of break.”

“So you admit I was right?” came Rhodey’s teasing tone.

“Hm, nope, never said that.”

“Yes, you did! I just heard you—Rhodey was right because he always is and Tony should listen to his elders!” he sing-songed. 

“I’m hanging up,” Tony warned.

“No you’re not!”

“Hanging up.”

“I’ll just call you back.”

Tony huffed. “Ugh, fine. How’s Georgia treatin’ you? Eaten your fill of peaches yet?”

“Dude, those aren’t even ripe right now!”

* * *

“I have an idea,” May said later that afternoon, after lunch and the twins’ nap.

Tony, Harley, and Peter looked over from the couch where they’d been watching videos of how DUM-E was progressing. He was entirely built and now the main task was working out the coding and programming. DUM-E could do simple tasks now, which had both boys enthralled, though his voice recognition was still pretty faulty. Tony eyed the rolling pin held in her hand. “Does this idea involve baking?”

“Yup!”

“Did you clear it with Ben?”

May ignored that quip. “I was working so much before Christmas that we didn’t get a chance to make Christmas cookies, did we?” She made a face at Harley and Peter, who shook their heads vehemently. “How about we make up for it now?”

Peter cheered. “Make cookies!” 

“My Tony too?” Harley begged, sticking out a pleading bottom lip.

“Yeah, alright, I’m in, I’m in.” May tossed an apron in his direction. It was red and green and lacy. He tossed it back. “Um, not quite _that_ in.”

“Suit yourself.”

Cookie ingredients had already been lined up on the counter, along with chairs for the boys to stand on. May consulted her recipe and then slid a jar of sugar Tony’s way. “One cup of that, measuring cups should be in that drawer by your knee. Right?”

“Yup.” 

While Tony extracted the correct one, May got Harley and Peter squishing a stick of partially melted butter with forks. He added his cup of sugar and made sure the boys stayed back while May stuck the bowl in the mixer.

“Alright, this is gonna be loud,” she warned. The boys slapped hands over their ears with comic exaggeration. May switched the electric mixer on. “Tony, there’s eggs in that carton,” she yelled over the noise. “Do you think you can crack one in there without making a mess?”

“Sure… Dang it!” The egg splintered, getting his fingers all gooey and sending most everything else cascading into the mixture. “Nope. I need a fork!”

It took them two minutes to fish out the bits of eggshell—or at least what could be fished out—and then a few more because Harley insisted on doing the vanilla extract all by himself. (“I do it! I _do_ it!”)

“Alrighty,” said May, turning off the mixer and looking over the recipe again. “Flour, baking powder, and salt are all going in— Tony, can you grab a bowl? Actually, that big glass one there will do nicely. Thank you…” 

Peter helped with the stirring while Tony measured out cups and teaspoons and daubed a bit of flour onto Harley’s nose. He sneezed. May flicked on the mixer again.

“Now pour that bowl in slowly. _Slowly,_ you—”

Tony tried, but both twins were jostling him, trying to help and their little hands were tilting the dry ingredients bowl with surprising force almost out of his grasp. “Hey—” 

May reached a hand over to steady it, but her elbow bumped the switch on the side and suddenly the beater was flying a mile a minute, bowl tilting dangerously, and in the next second Harley wasn’t the only one whose face was coated in flour.

In fact, _everything_ was coated in flour.

The two grown ups' eyes met over the top of the bowl. May looked like she lost a fight with a tube of white face paint and Tony’s hair was grey. He snorted. 

“Maybe I should have taken that apron after all?”

Ben came around the kitchen corner just then, but drew up short, face in such a pained _“Why me?”_ expression that it sent the entire room into breathless gales of laughter. 

“Oh, hey, honey.” In an attempt at nonchalance ruined by the fact that she was fighting to keep a straight face, May went to give her husband a kiss.

“Nope, nope,” Ben said, fending her off. “I’m not a part of this catastrophe. Go back over there by your mess so I can take a picture to show Ms. Casey and Ms. Maria next week, you disaster kitchen pixie.”

That sent everyone back into a laughing fit and Ben took a series of photos of them cracking up in the white dusted kitchen. May stuck her tongue out and ruffled Tony’s hair so that it sent a cloud into the air. He even got a priceless one of Harley’s expression as he swiped some of the mixture off the counter and stuck it in his mouth. The scowling face and outstretched tongue seemed to indicate that eating straight flour was a solid no for him.

“Okay,” May finally gasped, wringing out a wet washcloth. Ben mysteriously vanished at its appearance. “If you can get the worst of it, Tony, I’ll try to figure out how much actually got in the dough and fix that up.”

“You bet’cha.” He caught the cloth and, with a flourish, dropped it over Harley’s head. “Done!”

“No!” Harley squealed, uncovering an eye. 

“Me! Do me!”

“Who? You?” Tony scooped up the washcloth and deposited it on Peter’s head this time. “Who said that?”

“I did!” cried Peter. He clambered up one chair, little arms stretching in an attempt to drape the fabric over Tony’s hair. Tony bent down so that the kid could reach better.

“Oh nooo, I’ve been gotteeeen…” he moaned, collapsing dramatically against the edge of the countertop.

After that, they made quick work of the rest of the recipe (and Tony did swipe the washcloth over the counter slightly more thoroughly before slam dunking it in the sink). In no time, the dough was rolled out and shapes—trees, candy canes, bells, stars, and reindeer—cut and stuck in the oven. May let the boys (and Tony) eat the leftover scraps after she attacked them with a clean cloth more ferociously than Tony had.

“There’s not really a point,” she said as she wiped flour out of Peter’s eyebrow and pressed on a gingerbread man eyepatch, “because you’re just get sticky with frosting in half an hour, aren’t you? But at least this way the rest of the house hopefully won’t get _too_ floury. Though you never know,” she added to Tony as she passed him another washcloth, “I swear it’s an inherent trait of little boys to get everything _everywhere._ I don’t understand it.”

* * *

She was right, the frosting did cause a huge mess, though at least May found a plastic tablecloth to save the table from getting too sticky. They, on the other hand, were an entirely different matter.

“You can’t _eat_ it,” she huffed for the third time, pulling the butter knife Peter was trying to lick away from his mouth and in the direction of the cookie he was frosting instead. 

One thing (one of many things) that amazed Tony about May and Ben was how, somehow, they never yelled at the boys and even their scoldings, when they happened came with hugs and gentle hands. They didn’t get upset about things Tony expected them to—Peter repeatedly putting his frosting knife in his mouth, the way Harley had been squirting Ben during bath time the night before. They just responded with teasing and playful annoyance. Sometimes he swore they actually seemed to enjoy it when the twins made things harder.

Tony must have had something questioning in his face because May met his eyes and tilted her head. Out of her sight, Peter gave his knife a few surreptitious licks.

“It means they’re comfortable,” she explained. And then she poked Peter in the side. “I still saw that you little stinker. The frosting’s for the cookie.

“He wouldn’t do that if he wasn’t comfortable with us or if he was still scared of doing something wrong,” May went on, tongue poking out as she concentrated on lining up the red hots on her bell just so. “Obviously I want him, both of them, to listen, but something like frosting a cookie? That doesn’t matter. It’s only going to be us eating them anyways and I’ve had worse, believe me. There’s a lot of little things that aren’t worth getting upset over, you know? If I did, I’d be upset all the time because my kids weren’t being perfect. But kids aren’t perfect, especially kids who have gone through stuff like what they have. They’re three; they don’t need to be, they _shouldn’t_ be, acting like little adults right now.

“Because, ultimately, our job as their parents, especially at this age, is just to make sure these rascals have a good childhood. If that means bathtime takes a little longer because they think it’s hilarious to escape before we have a chance to get pajamas on, then I’ll deal with that extra five minutes to hear them laugh. If it means scrambling for a way to get Peter home when he’s having a rough day at daycare, I’ll do it. If it means holding Harley while he screams in my ear because he saw a person who reminded him of someone from his past, I’ll do it. 

“Things that make up for a little of what my boys have had to go through are worth it, things that make them laugh are worth it, and maybe the ‘more important’ stuff it interferes with really isn’t worth more than those are.”

Wow. That was… It reminded him, in a way, of Mama Rhodes, always so sweet, always smiling at the crazy antics of her brood of now mostly-grown children. 

_(Why am I the only one with a crap family?)_

A memory of small hands dropping pieces of carrot and cauliflower onto his brother’s head in the MIT dining hall suddenly floated to the surface of his mind. 

_He wouldn’t do that if he wasn’t comfortable._

Tony cleared his throat. “He’s, uh, doing it again,” he mumbled, awkwardly gesturing with a shaker of green sprinkles.

May rolled her eyes and handed Peter a new cookie. “How ‘bout you start decorating that one now, Petey-pie?”

“‘Tay.” He smeared pink (Red frosting was hard, okay?) over the reindeer-shaped cutout. “Dat’s a… a-a-a moose!”

“I think it’s a reindeer actually,” pointed out Tony. “Like Rudolph.”

“Yeah,” agreed Peter, placing a blob of white over his nose. (Maybe it was a reverse Rudolph?)

Frosting their cutouts didn’t take as long as Tony had thought. Though they also turned out nothing like the elaborately decorated plates of Christmas cookies he remembered their chef creating when he was younger, so maybe that made the difference. These ones were, well, unique. Green and pink and white, or sometimes all three, and covered in a mismatched assortment of sprinkles and red hots and tiny candy canes, they looked undoubtedly homemade.

They crowded the finished products onto baking trays on the counter. Harley scrambled up onto a chair to see, clinging to May’s sleeve, and began to point out each one he’d decorated, most of which were heaped in sprinkles. Tony scooped up Peter, ignoring how much frosting was probably being wiped off on his shirt. It was going in the wash anyways, seeing as May had already offered to do whatever laundry he needed done.

Ben drifted in behind them. “Those look delicious, you guys.” He gave his wife a kiss over the top of Harley’s frosting-sticky hair. “But you are still the one cleaning this up.”

* * *

That night, instead of tucking the twins in after they got them all ready for bed, May and Ben bundled them into winter coats and snow boots over top of their holiday footie pajamas. 

“Guh-gonna see a lights!”

“You betcha, we’re going to go see them. The Christmas lights are so pretty,” Ben explained to Tony, zipping Peter’s jacket up snugly under his chin. “It seems a shame not to do one last drive around the neighborhoods to see them before they start coming down.”

“Oh, fun.”

“We’ve been doing it since we got married, but the boys love it too. We go more with them than we ever did just the two of us. They have to be all ready for bed first, though, because it almost always sends them off to sleep by the end.”

May opened the door to usher Harley and Peter out to the car, and then glanced over at Tony in confusion. “Aren’t you coming?”

He started. “Oh! Are you sure? You— you don’t mind?”

“‘Course not,” Ben exclaimed. He tossed Tony’s coat at him. “Put that on, though, it gets cold.”

Tony shoved his arms in the sleeves, not bothering to zip it or fix the way his t-shirt got twisted in the fabric, and hastily tied the laces of his tennis shoes. 

“Ready?”

He nodded and followed Ben out to their car.

* * *

The lights were pretty, most of them, and the others were comical in the sheer quantity of blow-up snowmen and Santa Clauses they managed to fit into their front yards. An a cappella version of “What Child Is This?” playing over the radio mixed with May and Ben’s murmured comments. Squished into the backseat between Harley and Peter, Tony could watch them pointing out their favorite houses excitedly, but neither said much. He was also able to watch as first Peter, then Harley drifted off, heads leaning tiredly against the sides of their car seats.

When May glanced back to check on them, all three of them had fallen asleep, lulled by “Silent Night” and the easy rhythm of Ben's driving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our family, Christmas pretty much extends all the way to New Year's. Since Ben and May are so busy at work a lot of the time, I figure they have a similar philosophy.


	3. New Year's Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Year's Eve at the Parkers'...
> 
> We have some familiar faces in this chapter—and maybe even one or two new ones!

_Breaks are never long enough,_ Tony mused, laying on his living room bed and attempting to sort through emails on his phone. His inbox was a mess of tying-up-the-end-of-the-semester emails from the fall and getting-ready-for-the-next-semester emails for the spring, sprinkled with a liberal amount of “Happy Holidays from MIT’s robotics lab!”-type emails as well. Tony hadn’t touched any of them for several weeks at the least and was regretting it now.

“Hey, Tony.” May plopped cross-legged onto the couch.

He rolled over to face her. “What’s up?”

“So Ben and I usually do a party here for New Year’s Eve.”

“Okay?” responded Tony, unsure of where this was going. Did they want him out of the house for it? (Which was fine.) Or maybe to babysit Harley and Peter? (Which was also fine.) Or maybe they were—

“I know Rhodey’s out of town, right? But I was wondering if any of your friends from school are around and might want to come? It’s not going to be too big of a thing. We’ve got a couple friends from work coming, plus the Leeds’ of course, and Natasha said she thought she could make it, and MJ and her dad… But is there anyone you want to invite?”

He started to say no—he had a lot of acquaintances but very few friends—when he paused. Bruce hadn’t gone anywhere for the holidays, though a party might not exactly be his cup of tea. Still, with a bunch of three-year-olds around, there was no way it would get _too_ wild. 

“Actually,” Tony said, “there might be one guy. Can I text him and get back to you?”

_Worst thing he can do is say no, right?_

“Yes, of course. Just let me know if you think of anyone else, ‘kay?”

“Yeah, sure, thanks, May.”

She stood up to go and Tony flipped open his contacts trying to find… There: Bruce Banner. It’d only taken him three weeks to convince the guy to finally give him his number, amid much blushing and stammering that it was only for questions about the Applied Nuclear Physics lab (which Tony—as was to be expected—promptly ignored).

_Hey, you have plans for Dec 31?_

Bruce’s response was surprisingly quick. _Why?_

_Harley and Peter’s family is doing a New Years party—their work friends & some of the boys’ friends. You’re around, right? Wanna come? It’s 6:30, won’t go too late b/c the squirts have a bedtime _

Slower this time. Tony watched the dots appear and disappear several times before turning his phone off all together with a sigh and staring at the clock instead. One minute, two minutes, three minutes, four minutes…

_Buzz!_

He turned his phone back on.

_Would it be okay if my roommate came?_

Tony huffed. Four minutes for that? He could almost _hear_ the uncertainty and self-consciousness in the message text.

“May!”

Her voice floated down the stairs. “What?”

“Can he bring his roommate?”

“Sure.” She appeared at the end of the hall. “Long as you trust the both of them to behave.”

The idea of Bruce acting out was as comical in its unlikelihood as the scientist suddenly declaring an undying passion for breakdancing. Tony had to imagine that anyone he was close enough to to live with was the same.

“Yeah, he’s about as straight-laced as they come.”

* * *

So he might have been a little off.

Not that Bruce’s house mate seemed sketchy in the slightest—or particularly prone to breakdancing—just very different from him. He was big and broad with long blond hair, which was braided and twisted back into a rather intricate half-up ponytail. He followed his roommate through the door, filling the small space and Bruce pressed back against him in a way which made it clear he was much more used to hovering _behind_ the man than being the one in front.

“You must be Bruce,” Ben said warmly, moving to greet the pair. “You had dinner with the boys when Tony brought them to MIT, right?”

“Yeah, hi.” He waved a little. “This is my, um—”

“I’m Thor,” the man said in a voice that was deep, but good-natured and friendly. He had an accent that Tony couldn’t quite place, but he noticed Bruce’s posture relax as the weight of the introductions got passed off. Thor extended a hand over his roommate’s shoulder. “A pleasure to meet you. Th—” 

He didn’t get any farther than that, though, because in the next moment the room erupted in screams, high-pitched and terrified. Harley’s eyes were fastened in fear on the newcomer.

Ben reacted instantly, scooping the shaking kid up and cradling him in his arms. With one hand, he tucked Harley’s head into the crook of his neck and began murmuring quietly to him. May appeared in the doorway to the kitchen where she and a few of her work friends had been finishing putting together the snacks, a nervous-looking Peter already safely resting on her hip.

“I am very sorry.” Thor backed quickly toward the door, hands held in front of him. “Would it be best if I leave?”

May and Ben had an entirely silent conversation with their eyes, at the end of which he turned back to Thor, eyeing the man. May retreated back into the kitchen. Though his body still trembled, Harley’s screams had tapered off into only a few whimpers.

“I think you’re fine.” Ben spoke warily. “For now. But if—”

“If ever you wish me to leave, simply say the word and I will go. I understand,” Thor assured him. “My younger brother was adopted and there have been some similar… situations. I am not offended. Though I may become so if you don’t tell me where I ought to hang my jacket to prevent it dripping on your floor..”

Ben chuckled at that. “We appreciated it. And your coat can go in there.” He nodded towards the coat closet, grip on Harley never loosening. Tony hurried into the gap, pulling out hangers for Thor’s denim-jacket-and-sweatshirt combo, as well as Bruce’s coat, and squirreling them away. 

“Do you want to—” He darted a glance in Ben’s direction and received an encouraging look. “You can take your shoes off and then come sit down, if you’d like.”

The living room had been stocked with almost every spare chair in the Parkers’ house (and the remainder were clustered around the kitchen table). Tony sat on one corner of the couch, Bruce in a folding chair near it, and Thor elected for a swiveling desk chair that Tony hadn’t known existed. 

“So, how’s the PhD coming?”

Bruce blushed. “It’s coming along. I, uh, think I’ve been organizing data for about a month straight now. It’s all a mess.”

“Even on Christmas,” Thor said with a teasing grin. “I had to drag him away from his spreadsheets to eat our ham.”

“Because I had just downloaded another round of testing results!”

The doorbell rang and a gust of cold air welcomed the arrival of more guests. Tony craned his neck to see if he caught a flash of red hair among them, but no Nat yet. Ben appeared at his shoulder though, toting Harley.

“Can you sit with Tony for a bit?” he asked the boy softly. 

Harley peeked warily at Thor, but consented. Barely.

“He should warm up after a little while, but come get me if you need me.” 

With a kiss to his foster son’s head, Ben passed him off. Tony settled Harley on his lap, securely encircled within his arms, and he buried his face in Tony’s dress shirt with a whimper. 

“You’re okay, buddy, I’ve got you.”

The conversation turned to finals after that—Bruce had had to grade an unfortunate number and Tony had had to _take_ an unfortunate number—and classes in general, and then to work because Thor had finished school a few years before.

“So where do you work?”

“In one of the training facilities downtown, most of the year,” he said. “We have a trampoline park and gymnastics equipment—which are quite delightful and people come to train for all types of activities—along with a physical therapy clinic and gym. And then for a month or two during high season, I sign on to a commercial fishing boat up the coast that is owned by a friend of my father’s.”

As Thor spoke, Harley unearthed his face to peer at him curiously.

“I talk strangely, do I not?” The man grinned, noticing his gaze. He gave a particularly strong spin in the chair and then stopped it. “I am from a country called Australia, which is quite far from Massachusetts.” 

Harley stiffened when Thor rose to his feet. “N-no, no! Stuh-stay ‘way!”

Tony tightened his grip, whispering, “Shh, shh, you’re safe, it’s okay,” and running a hand over the kid’s shoulders. His eyes shot daggers in the other’s direction.

Very calmly, Thor settled himself criss-cross applesauce on the far side of Bruce’s legs. “Never fear, friend,” he said, now having to tilt his head back to look up atTony and Harley. “I am simply sitting here so that I may better tell you about my home.”

He was busy regaling them with stories of kangaroos and koala bears and surfing in the ocean when Nat arrived. She plopped down next to Tony on the couch and poked Harley in the side. Much more relaxed now, he jabbed her back. 

“You’re one of those idiots who’s out at the beach surfing when it’s 45 degrees and raining sideways, aren’t you?”

Thor’s grin (and the look Bruce sent to his shoes) was answer enough. 

“That’s when the best waves are,” he explained. “With the proper wetsuits the cold isn’t very bad—though certainly much cooler than home—and Bruce waits to keep the car warm for me.”

“Hm.” She didn’t look impressed.

“‘Ta-sha!” cried Peter, rushing up to her and only shying back a little bit at Thor.

“Hello there, little mister.” She lifted the boy up onto her lap. “Are you being good for May and Ben?”

He nodded happily. “We make— make _cookies!_ ”

“Well, that sounds like lots of fun. Oh! And that reminds me, I’ve got to tell you this.” Nat faced Tony. “So Libby— You remember Lib, right? She’s three, super cute, but foster, so she’s a little delayed developmentally,” she added for Bruce and Thor’s benefit. 

“Anyway, the other day, I was taking a handful of the kids to the bathroom and the paper towel got jammed again because they keep jumping up and smacking the dispensers. I got it unjammed and turned around and guess who had their hand _inside_ the toilet. Like up to the elbow, _dripping_ in toilet water, the little stinker.”

The three guys laughed and May leaned over the back of the couch between Natasha and Tony, wrinkling her nose.

“Was that Libby?” 

Nat nodded. 

“I figured as much.” May ruffled the twins’ hair. “She’s always getting into stuff. Now don’t you two go getting any ideas on me now. 

“Every one’s here now—or almost,” she went on. “Mr. Watson and MJ just got here, Nat, if you wouldn’t mind saying hi, and the Leeds’ should be just a few minutes. And could you boys haul a few chairs into the kitchen or at least close to it? That’d be great. I think we’re going to try and start gathering people in there to get this show on the road.”

Natasha left, making her way over to where MJ was getting her winter coat (black with some sort of daisy-like flowers on it) unzipped by a kneeling, grey-haired man. She stuck her tongue out at Tony and he crossed his eyes and returned the gesture. She seemed satisfied. 

_Nice to know that some things never change._

Harley helped them shift the chairs, or at least tried to. He was pushing the desk chair Thor had been spinning in, but it veered off course so much that Tony, Bruce, and Thor managed to move all the other chairs in the time it took Harley to push just that one.

The table was covered in a variety of trays loaded with cheese, crackers, meat, fruit, and dessert items. One plate had a collection of familiar, badly decorated Christmas cookies. On the counter were glasses containing something pale and bubbly that made ice settle in Tony’s gut and sweat prick underneath his arms. He could feel his breathing hitch.

People were going to expect him to drink, but he couldn’t, not around the twins or May or Ben. He _couldn’t._ Rhodey wasn’t here to keep him in check and he didn’t trust himself not to start doing something absolutely stupid the minute the alcohol got into his bloodstream and—

“It’s just sparkling apple juice,” May whispered, appearing at his shoulder while working the foil off of a container of dip in her hands. “Makes it feel fancy, but then kids can have some and it doesn’t cause any problems for anyone.”

Tony let out a breath and shot her a relieved look. He got a wink and a wad of foil in return. 

“So what’s your friend’s name again?”

He pointed out Bruce and Thor to her. They were talking with a Philipino-looking lady holding a tiny baby bundled in a pink blanket. Tony assumed she must be Mrs. Leeds because he’d just seen her chubby son (Ned? No, Ted?) go past chasing after the twins and MJ (who was close to smiling, despite her best efforts not to). 

Nat materialized on their other side, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear. “Can I give you a hand, May?”

“Um… yes, thanks.” May passed her a bag of chips. “Can you open those? Tony’ll get you a bowl. That big blue one on top of the fridge will do. There’s a step stool under the sink, if you need it to reach.”

“Haha, you’re so funny,” he shot back. He tossed the dip foil into the trash can and hopped onto a clean area of the counter instead.

“Could he not make it?” Tony heard May ask in an undertone as he pulled several loaves of bread and a Thomas the Train lunch box out of the bowl and tried to pile them on top of the fridge instead..

“No,” replied Nat tightly. “Said he thinks he’ll be stuck there until the end of January.”

“Aw, honey, I’m sorry.”

“He keeps saying it’s the last one, it’s the last one but…” She shrugged. 

Feeling that this wasn’t a conversation he could just barge in on, Tony took his time climbing back down with the bowl. When he finally did turn around, May was just dropping her arm from around Natasha’s shoulders and the girl was focused a little too hard on getting the chip bag open.

* * *

The party was fun. 

They made toasts which started serious and quickly turned sillier and sillier after Ned expressed his extreme gratefulness for green jello shaped like dinosaur feet. Ben brought out a basket of poppers—the kind where one end pulled off with a bang to reveal a paper crown, lame jokes, and a plastic prize inside. Tony’s was miniature badminton, but Peter got cardboard dominos, and Thor a plastic eyepatch which he immediately put on, to the kids’ delight. The trays of snacks got demolished, even the star-shaped cookie that Harley had absolutely _coated_ in an obscene number of red hots but had only a thin dusting of frosting. (Bruce took it, to Tony’s immense surprise, and seemed to be completely unfazed.)

He was very glad Bruce (and Thor and Nat) had come. Without them Tony would’ve been stuck in the awkward position of being too young to talk with the adults but too old to play with the little kids, and with all the Parkers occupied with their respective friends, he would have had no one to talk to. As it was, he, Natasha, Thor, and Bruce took their plates and moved to sit out of the way on the living room rug.

“So how come you’re living here?” Nat asked Thor. “Not for the surfing, I hope.”

“No, not that. My brother and I worked on the fishing boat several summers—It was good fun, he hated it. I ended up in the States for university afterwards, and then got a job here and stayed. Bruce and I rent a place not far from MIT.”

“Did you go to MIT?”

“Brucie does,” Tony broke in. “He TA’s one of my classes and is working on a PhD. It’s—”

The man in question ducked his head as though that could stave off what he already knew was coming.

“—his _third_ PhD—”

“Third? Geez! What’s your IQ, Mr. Genius?”

A violent blush was the only response Natasha got as Bruce attempted to hide behind his curls. Thor clapped him on the shoulder, grinning proudly at his friend. 

“So.” Nat nudged him playfully with her foot. “Real question: What are they in?”

“Well, it’s, uh… they’re mostly kind of centered around gamma radiation stuff.” He fidgeted with the cracker he was holding, going to take a bite and then thinking better of it. “U-um… I did Nuclear Physics and Biochemistry. And, um, now I’m working on Biomedical Engineering. The idea’s, like, uh, medical applications of gamma radiation, so, um…” Bruce shrugged and quickly tried to deflect the attention off himself. “What about you?”

“I work at the daycare Harley and Peter go to,” she responded with an ease the scientist could never have hoped to achieve. “And I babysat them a few times when they were younger, before Tony was around. The little girl who’s been running around is my MBMF mentee. She’s a sassy little smart-aleck.”

“So, just like you!” exclaimed Tony and he bounced a slice of cheese off her shoulder.

“Shut up.”

* * *

At 7:30—which had to be midnight _somewhere_ —Ben announced it was time for the ball drop. He pulled out two large wiffle balls, tied to ropes and liberally decorated with ribbons, pipe cleaners, and sparkly tinsel, and May urged everybody into their coats. Once bundled up, the group congregated in the backyard, each with an assortment of noisemakers and stomping their feet to keep warm.

Peter and Harley scrambled up onto the platform of the swing set and Ben helped them dangle their balls over the railing, while May passed out flashlights to MJ and Ned so that they could be “spotlights.”

“Ready?” May flicked on the flashlights and Mrs. Leeds began the countdown.

“Ten… nine… eight…” 

Ben guided the twins in how far to let down the ropes each time, noisemaker clenched between his teeth like an old fashioned cigar.

“Seven… six… five… four…” 

Harley’s ball had somehow gotten a foot ahead of Peter’s. 

“Three… two…”

Ned was bouncing in excitement, spotlight beam careening wildly until his dad crouched down to hold it steady before he blinded somebody.

“ONE!”

They burst into a cacophony of noise: odd-sounding honks and cheers and someone had apparently unearthed several maracas, which were being shaken vigorously. Thor let out a loud whoop that made up for the fact that Bruce’s—the sort that unfurled like a frog tongue—only sort of worked. Tony blew on his (functioning) horn and watched Mr. Watson twirl MJ around in the air until the girl was laughing and too dizzy to stand.

One of Ben’s cop friends began singing “Auld Lang Syne” to which everyone else joined in joyfully, despite nobody knowing more than half of the lyrics.

It was different, vastly different, than the New Year’s Galas the Stark family hosted each season—the tuxedos and cocktails and fireworks and everybody trying to impress everybody else. The only part Tony remotely missed were the fireworks. He had always snuck away to the upstairs balcony so that he could watch the bright lights herald in the new year by himself.

This wasn’t peaceful, but it was joyful and Tony felt no need to sneak off, especially when Peter came dashing over, beaming about his role in the celebration and stretching his arms out to be picked up.

* * *

The first ones to leave were Leeds and MJ and her foster father so that their kiddos could go to bed, and shortly afterwards May took Peter and Harley upstairs to tuck them in as well. Tony’s friends and the other adults trickled out over the course of the next few hours with hugs and kisses and friendly claps on the back.

Eventually, it was just the three of them—Ben, May, and Tony—puttering around throwing wayward wrappers into the trash and stacking leftover snacks into Tupperware containers, while the count down to the Times Square ball drop played on the TV. When there were only a few minutes to go, Ben called them into the living room so they could watch.

May brought three glasses filled with the last of the sparkling cider and the two Parkers sandwiched Tony firmly between themselves on the couch. Ben draped his free arm across their backs, drawing them even closer together.

When the screen showed nothing but celebrating couples, May turned toward her boys with a fond look. Ben leaned over to plant a kiss on his wife’s cheek, squishing Tony, who squawked involuntarily, in the process. May smiled at that and clinked her glass against his.

“Happy New Year, Tony.”

  
  


_El fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year friends!
> 
> Updates to this series will likely be few and far between for a little while. I have a couple of bigger multi-chapter WIPs I'm hoping to finish writing soon, so that I can start posting them! (So if you're a fan of kid Peter, keep an eye out!)


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